


Violent Delights have Violent Ends

by LeashedDemons



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Vampires, just a lil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeashedDemons/pseuds/LeashedDemons
Summary: He leaned in closer and GOD, he smelled so good. She could smell a cheap cologne, but no, that wasn’t it. His blood was sweet, sickeningly so. She could already tell. Oh, his blood would taste so sweet on her lips! She didn’t realize how tight she was holding her glass until it shattered in her hands, the contents spilling across her sequin top and leather pants. Her hearing faded out as she stared at the redness over her lap. ❝ These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness and in the taste confounds the appetite. ❞





	1. Carmen

_Thwap!_

 

Constantine groaned aloud as he’s rudely awoken by the sound of a newspaper hitting the coffee table in front of him. Shifting to look behind him, he sees none other than Zed, frowning down at him with her arms crossed.

 

“Aye, mornin’, luv.” He says, plopping back down with a heavy breath. He can practically feel her roll her eyes as she uncrosses her arms and grabs his legs, throwing them from the end of the couch and plopping down.

 

“Don’t mornin’ luv me. We’ve got a case.” She says, gesturing to the newspaper. He rubs his eyes as he reluctantly sits up, grabbing the newspaper. Groggily, he looks over the front page.

 

** TEN DEAD IN LOUISIANA MASSACRE. **

 

He squints. It sounded awfully familiar and if it was as familiar as he thought, it wasn’t a good sign. Even so, _she_ didn’t need people up her ass investigating if that was the case. He tossed the newspaper back onto the table and stood up, making his way to the bar located in the corner as he considered what to do.

 

It sounded like she was in trouble and needed help (though  _she_  might not see it that way). However, wherever he seemed to go, things followed, and that might not be optimal for whatever is going on. Zed was also looking at him very suspiciously as he poured his drink.

 

Eh, what the hell? Why not?

* * *

_The boys, the girls, they all like Carmen_

_She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes_

_She laughs like God, her mind's like a diamond_

_Audio tune lies, she's still shining_

_Like lightning, ohh, white lightning_

 

_It wasn’t his usual hang out, that was for sure, which made him uncomfortable (not that anyone could tell. After all, he was THE John Constantine). Regardless, he walked in with his trench coat, British accent and was easily accepted as if he was one of the bar’s regulars. Almost immediately after ordering, he’d begun scouting for his target._

_After sifting through the usual supernatural bullshit and discerning what was what, he’d finally spotted his target amongst the higher tiers of the bar. He was accompanied by two underage-looking girls, both of whom seemed frightened or at the very least uncomfortable. He sat in a puffy leather chair, one hand underneath his chin and the other resting on the arm, a single onyx ring on his slender fingers. Even from John’s position in the bar, he could see the man clearly: silver hair, a creepy blank expression, angular jaw, and a Prada suit disguising a muscular frame. The two women sat knelt on either side of him, heads down and trembling. John struggled to keep his temper in check, fingers tightening around his glass. He forced himself to relax and swiveled to check for security, but found himself taking pause._

_Standing before him was a woman about six foot with long beautiful red hair flowing about her shoulders. Small freckles dusted her cheeks, and her lips were covered in red lipstick and showed a hint of a smile. She wore a silver sequin dress that draped loosely, exposing some of her chest and showing off her tall legs. Her feet were planted into tall red heels, which she stood in confidently as she stared up at the man John had just been looking at, a look of determination and confidence in her eye. She glanced at John, a grin spread to her lips, revealing sharp canines and pearly whites, and then she started to work her way through the crowd._

_It wasn’t until she was already halfway through the crowd that John realized what was going on and finished his drink before hurrying after her. Of course, he had a harder time getting through the crowd than she did. He tried to shout after her, to warn her, but quickly realized he didn’t know what to call her as he didn’t know her name. He watched as she approached him, was stopped by bodyguards, patted down, and then allowed to sit beside him, instead of beneath him._

_He also then watched as she ripped his throat out._

 

* * *

 

He was never going to understand why she chose Louisiana, specifically New Orleans. The nightlife had never really appealed to her, although she’d always been seen in it and he’d also met her in it. She was attracted to the nightlife; likely because it was easier to hide in it. That was part of the reason Constantine had immediately opted to get a hotel; that and he was exhausted after only having a brief nap after his alcohol binge. Zed hadn’t been too excited and had immediately started doing the classic investigating: newspaper clippings, red yarn, photographs, etc. He was sure she wouldn’t find anything though. She never left anything behind. She always took it all.

 

“Hey, John, look at this.” He’s awoken by another thwap and sighs deeply, rolling over. His gaze immediately met a photograph of a man’s finger.

 

“What a lovely sight.” He says sarcastically, raising his blonde brows and looking to her for explanation, though his heart lurched in his chest.

 

“It looks like an animal chewed on it.” Zed says, pointing to the end of the finger, where the skin was torn, as if it’d been ripped (or chewed on...).

 

Remind me NOT to tell her you said that. John thought to himself, brows knitting for a moment as he considered what to say. “Yeah. Perhaps a werewolf or a skin walker. Nasty creatures. They have quite the bite.”

 

“You think so?” She asked, standing to her full height and turning the picture to look at it. “Where would we find them?”

 

“Pretty much anywhere you’d find humans.” Unfortunately, this was also where to find her. This would give him a chance to look for her but also risk Zed finding her. He’d have to take that chance. “My first try would be a bar.”

 

“Of course it would be.” She says, rolling her eyes, setting the photograph aside and grabbing her jacket. She looked back at him as she put it on, raising her brows. “What are you doin’? Let’s go?”

 

He sighed and sat up, grabbing his coat and throwing it on. As they stepped out, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it, thinking to himself.

 

_What kind of trouble are you in, Carmen?_

 


	2. Art of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zed meets Carmen; John starts a war on accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short but I really wanted to update so please be patient with the shortness. Pls love me

_ There was so much blood. Everywhere. It covered her lips, her jaw, her throat, her hands, and the entire floor at her feet. Once pearly whites were stained with the blood of his target. She was grinning, almost laughing, dripping fangs exposed. The two girls previously kneeling by the couch stood and ran, seemingly in slow motion as John watched her throw her head back and run a bloody hand through her hair, clearly enjoying the moment of bloodshed. It was like nothing he’d seen before. It was justice, but not exactly the kind John was in the business of. _

 

_ Almost instantly, John braced himself for a fight, changing his stance to that of a defensive one and burying his hand inside his coat (not that there was really anything in there, but that wasn’t the point). She took notice despite her trance, and seeing his stance, threw her head back and laughed. He quirked a brow. _

 

_ “Somethin’ funny, luv?” he asked. _

 

_ “Yeah, you.” She gestured to him. “I don’t want  _ **_you_ ** _.” _

 

_ She then gestured to his target, dead on the floor. _

 

_ “I wanted him. He’s all I came here for.” _

 

_ “Unfortunately, I can’t let you leave.” _

 

_ She laughed again. _

 

_ “And  _ **_you_ ** _ plan on stopping  _ _ me _ _?” _

 

John smiled at the memory as Zed opened the door to what was probably the fourth bar they’d checked. John had a feeling this was the one, and Zed did as well. He could feel  _ her _ the second the doors opened and sure enough, as soon as the doors closed behind him, he could see her sitting alone at a table towards the back, eyes scanning the bar’s crowd. Her eyes fell to him over her Bloody Mary and she grinned.

 

“Listen to me,” John turned to Zed almost instantly. “Don’t talk. Don’t say anything. I do the talking. Ya understand?”

 

She instantly frowned. “What? Why?”

 

“Just listen to me.” He told her and started to make his way toward her table. Zed followed in quick pursuit. They reached the table within minutes and it seemed to click with Zed right away why he was doing the talking. She took a step behind John as he leaned over the chair opposite her, glaring into her face. “ _ Carmen _ .”

 

“John.” She greeted, taking a sip of her drink and glancing upwards at him. “My, you look upset. Is something wrong?”

 

_ God, he hated when she acted coy _ .

 

He took a seat and crossed his arms, brows quirked.

 

“Somethin’ wrong? Oh no. Not at all. Couldn’t be anything wrong with a nice ol’  **_Louisiana Massacre_ ** . Ten dead, Carmen! Ten. What tha’ hell were ya thinking, luv?” He whispered the last bit, leaning across the table.

 

She shrugged dismissively. “Hey, sometimes you gotta kill a guy.”

 

“A guy, Carmen? Ten! An’ those weren’t just guys. Some were women.” He clarified.

 

“Death doesn’t discriminate and neither do I.” She shrugged again.

 

As chill as she was trying to be, John could tell something was off. He wasn’t sure what, but he was determined to find out. He was about to say something else when a waiter stopped by the table, so he forced himself to remove a cigarette and light it instead whilst she conversed with the waiter, who she was eyeing with more hunger than he was comfortable with.

 

“Another Bloody Mary, ma’am?” Ma’am! If only he knew! The poor boy would be running scared.

 

“Yes, dear. That’d be great.” She tossed her red hair over her shoulder and propped her chin up underneath her hand, leaning into her chair. The glitter of her dress caught the lighting, only furthering the look she was trying to pull. He nodded hypnotically and shuffled off to get her the requested drink as she smiled, slowly turning back to John who was frowning with disappointment. She was unaffected.

 

“Carmen, ya know I ignore what you do as long as you keep the harm minimal and to criminals, but I can’t ignore you when you’re on the front page. Stop or I will have to do something about it.”

 

Her eyes flashed up from her drink right away and for a moment, her expression was blank. Nothing. Then, she leaned back, swished her drink in the glass, and took a swig before speaking.

 

“The fact...that you think you can do anything about it astonishes me in the first place, but that you would make a threat on my life…” She chuckled, shaking her head, before her face went serious, “That’s just exciting. When was the last time we played, John? First time we met, wasn’t it? Who won?”

 

Silence.

 

She stood up, laid a twenty on the table and looked at him.

 

“See you on the battlefield.”

 

She winked as she left, leaving him to contemplate what he’d just done. The second she was gone, Zed was probing him with questions of how he knew her, what she was talking about, etc., but there were only two questions he had:

 

_ What did I just start? _

 

_ How do I end it? _

 


	3. Lose Your Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a decision about what to do about Carmen.

_ That wasn’t the last time Constantine saw her covered in blood, although he kinda wished it had been. By the time he’d met her, she’d already long developed a taste for it -- the blood, the hunt, and the kill. There wasn’t nothing much to do except monitor her killing and that’s what he did and God, was there a lot of it. As time went on, he quickly realized she was putting on a show for him. The bodies gradually became more and more bloody, more grotesque. _

 

_ She was unlike any evil he’d encountered ever before. She killed without discrimination, but she still seemed to believe in concepts like justice. Even more interesting, she was an evil he had no means of getting rid of. He was sure she was no regular vampire, possibly not a vampire at all. He was beginning to think she was an evil he’d have to become used to...possibly ally himself with. _

 

Oh

You're gonna lose your soul, tonight

You're gonna lose your soul

You're gonna lose your soul tonight, tonight

Oh

You're gonna lose control, tonight

You're gonna lose control

You're gonna lose control tonight, tonight, tonight

_ He knocked on the door to the studio apartment, a cigarette pinned between his pursed lips, thinking about what to say. After all, she was surprisingly volatile. He needed to make it sound sweet enough to her, or she wouldn’t take it. The door swung open, the red-headed maneater standing in the doorway. Blood red hair fell about her delicate, pallid shoulders, reaching to her chest covered in pink satin pajamas. _

_ She grinned upon seeing John, revealing pearly-white teeth but not her fangs. He squinted and grabbed his cigarette, pulling it out to blow the smoke out, and then taking another drag. She quirked a very red brow at him, annoyance mde obvious. Upon placing it back in his mouth, his hands went to the pockets of his trench-coat. For a few moments, they just stood there, looking back at each other. _

_ A second passed. John’s heart skipped a beat. _

_ She scoffed and stepped aside. _

_ “Enter.” She barked, gesturing into the studio. He shrugged and stepped inside, the door being closed behind him. It was then that he realized he’d, quite literally, just entered the lion’s den. Well, wasn’t like he could back out now. He started to look around, noticing that the small studio was surprisingly lavish. There was fur, leather, and evidence of just about every expensive taste you could have. She emerged from behind him and strode over to her leather couch with a fur blanket over it and sat down, gesturing for him to follow. He did, taking a puff off his cigarette on the way and blowing it into the air above him, noting the many glass chandeliers. He sat down across from her, watching as she poured a red liquid into a glass and she raised her brown eyes to him in questioning before actually speaking. _

_ “Would you like some as well?” If it was blood, definitely not, but he really wasn’t sure it was. The viscosity wasn’t consistent enough to be. She grinned, seeming to know what he was thinking. “No, it’s not blood. It’s red wine.” _

_ “Sure, luv.” he answered, leaning forward in his seat as she poured the other glass. _

I get up in the morning

To the beat of the drum

I get up to this feeling

Keeps me on the run

I get up in the morning

Put my dreams away

I get up, I get up, I get up again

_ “To what do I owe this pleasure, John Constantine?” The way his name rolled off of her tongue made him uncomfortable. She said the words slowly and with narrowed eyes, like a predator memorizing it’s prey and preparing for the hunt. He took his glass and threw it back, trying to avoid how she was looking at him from behind the glass of wine. _

_ “You can thank the bodies you’ve left all over town.” He stated flatly, using her glass ashtray to put his cigarette out. Her brows quirked in interest, but her face quickly changed. _

_ “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said innocently, pulling her legs to her chest. Oh, so she was going to play coy. _

_ “Two women in their 20’s. A man in his late 20s, early 30s. A teenager. Jogging your memory a bit?” He set the glass down on the coffee table, looking to her. She shrugged, her act now seemingly falling. She set her own cup down and offered her hands to him, palms up. _

_ “You’ve got your killer, John Constantine. Congratulations. Care to arrest me?” She quirked a brow daringly, red lips pulling back a little to reveal a hint of a fang. He rolled his eyes and shoved her hands away from him as she laughed, the sound echoing through the small apartment. _

_ “We both know there’s no point to that. After all, I’d just be giving you more food.” He leaned forward, his palms resting together and his eyes narrowing. “Now, I just have one question. What are you?” _

_ She grabbed her glass and took a long sip, head lolling back to look at the glass chandelier above her. She took another sip and then rolled her head back around, her neck giving a small pop. She grinned. _

_ “I’m solid gold, baby. Solid gold.” _

_ He sighed. He’d never get an honest answer. _

Oh   
You're gonna lose your soul, tonight   
You're gonna lose your soul   
You're gonna lose your soul tonight, tonight   
Oh   
You're gonna lose control, tonight   
You're gonna lose control   
You're gonna lose control   
Tonight, tonight, tonight

“You’re an idiot!” That was the same phrase he’d been hearing for the past hour and honestly, he was getting tired of it. He yawned, sitting up from the couch and grabbed the bourbon off the coffee table and took a swig from the bottle.

“‘Ye, ‘ye, I already know, luv. Is this ‘eally necessary?” He asked, looking to Zed, who was currently pacing from wall-to-wall in their hotel room for the night. She’d also been doing that for the past hour. “At least take a seat, luv.”

“You could’ve told me you knew her!” She exclaimed. He rolled his eyes and flopped back on the couch, bottle in hand.

“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is we stop her from waging her little war because the second she does, bodies will start dropping like flies and when they do, she won’t stop until she wants to.” He snapped.

Zed slowly sat down across from him, glaring a little at him. She crossed her arms.

“What are we going to do?” She asked, leaning back into the couch.

“ _ We _ aren’t going to do anything.  _ I’m _ going to find out what she plans on doing.  _ You’re _ going to stay here and wait for a vision.” He clarified, standing and grabbing his coat off the back of the couch and slinging it over his shoulder. As to be expected, Zed stood and instantly began protesting. He shushed her with a finger to her lips, watching her brows knit in confusion.

“Less talking. More focusing.” He gently flicked her in the forehead. “Vision.”

With that, he exited the hotel room, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it as he exited the hotel, giving a wave to the front desk clerk on the way out. He hated to lie, but the talk this afternoon likely hadn’t gone well because they hadn’t been able to speak plainly and that’s exactly what they needed to do. Now to find where she was staying.

That’s when he heard an ear-splitting scream.

 

That’s a good place to start.


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constantine discovers what's truly going on and sees a rare side to Carmen.

It seemed they were destined to meet each other in these circumstances every time. Her - covered in blood and standing over a body and him - finding her. She stood over a deeply bloodied and grotesquely torn apart body lying in the alleyway, her clothes and hands soaked in fresh blood, redder than her hair. The moon hit her back, illuminating the fur of her coat and the back of her heels, casting an interesting, large shadow on the opposite wall. He struggled to see her face as her shoulders were hunched a bit and the way the shadows were.

 

“Carmen.” He started, stepping into the alleyway as he looked around for any onlookers, especially those of the law. None. That was a good sign, he supposed. Apparently, he’d been the only one to hear, but that left one question. Who had screamed? “What did you do?”

 

She was quiet, hands outstretched in front of her, looking down at them and the blood smeared across them. He quirked a blonde brow, slightly curious at the sight before him. Was she...upset? It wasn’t exactly something he’d seen before. Well, he’d seen her upset, but over trivial things, like her clothes being stained, her hair not being perfect,  _ or _ her food running too fast. Never over the death of another human being, especially one she caused.

 

“Carmen?” He tried again and it was then that her head turned and he saw the look on her face. She looked confused, her brows drawn together, and eyes full of sorrow and weariness. She honestly looked like she hadn’t slept in days. He held out a hand out to her, as though he was approaching some nervous animal in the wild.

 

“Ed?” She whispered softly, eyes softening and her hands began to tremble. He watched as her eyes filled up with tears, hands dropped to her sides, and she practically ran over to him, throwing her arms around him in one of the tightest embraces he’s ever felt. “Oh, Ed! I thought you were dead.”

 

He frowned. Not this again. He hated when this happened. He softly patted her lower back, frowning, considering what to do about both her and the body. He supposed he’d have to wait for her to come out of this state to ask her what happened. Well, Zed wasn’t going to like this.

  
  


By the time they got back to the hotel, her demeanor had shifted. She still thought he was Ed, but she’d become happier, ruffling his hair now and then, and occasionally looking at him with this softened look on her face with a hint of sadness but also pride. He’d gotten her to the hotel and found, much to his relief, that Zed had decided to take a trip out.

 

He got her to the hotel and got her sitting down and a drink in her hand, though it did nothing to pull her out of the daze she was in. She looked about the room, visibly confused but kept smiling at him every time she looked at him. It was a state that he hadn’t really seen her in before, only a couple of times really. Every time he saw her in it, it completely bewildered him. The stark contrast between this side of her and what she pretended to be was shocking.

“Carmen?” He asked her, looking her over as she sat on the couch of the run-down hotel room. Her hair was disheveled, falling about her shoulders loosely, unkempt and messy, very much unlike her. She was still dressed in her clothes from that evening: a sequin top, faux fur coat, a pair of leather pants, and a pair of tall red high heels. Her top was smeared with blood as her hands had been, but he hadn’t been able to convince her to change. At least her hands were somewhat clean, holding the glass of bourbon delicately as she gazed off into the distance, her eyes slightly glazed over. It was obvious that she was somewhere else.

 

_ “Mum?” The voice of a young boy, maybe eight, interrupted her musings. She turned from where she was gazing out the window of the Victorian mansion and smiled upon seeing the boy, young and handsome with a full head of shaggy blond hair and bright green eyes. She held her arms out for him and he walked into her arms, letting her lift him up and set him on the table before her.  _

 

_ “What is it, Ed?” She asked, humming amusingly. He always had interesting questions to ask. He was a curious boy and it made her proud. She liked that he asked questions, although sometimes he asked too many or the wrong kind at the wrong moment. _

 

_ “Why don’t I have siblings?” He asked the question innocently, as it was an innocent question. It caused her to pause, a small frown coming to her face. It was a good question, she supposed, coming from him. However, there was no easy answer, especially not one that would make sense to him. A heavy sigh filled her. How do you explain infertility to an eight-year-old? _

 

_ “Come here, Ed.” She held her arms out to him and pulled him into her arms, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close, inhaling the scent of his hair and allowing it to linger in her nostrils and treasuring it at that moment. “You don’t have siblings because Mommy couldn’t have any. In fact, Mommy was lucky to have you. You’re Mommy’s precious gift.” _

 

_ She ruffled his short blonde hair and sighed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. _

 

_ “I love you, Edward.” _

 

_ “I love you too, Mum.” _

 

She seemed to snap out of her daze then and looked to him, her normal demeanor returning. She set the glass of bourbon down, a permanent frown etched into her lips. Standing, she shrugged off her fur coat, which was also soaked in blood, and pushed her red hair from her face, blinking a few times.

 

“Uh...I’m gonna go take a shower…” She stalked off into the bathroom, leaving Constantine to deal with what just happened. As if on cue, the door to the hotel opened and in walked Zed, who nearly dropped her things upon seeing him standing there. She threw her stuff on the couch as she stomped up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Where the  **hell** did you go?” She demanded, stepping back and crossing her arms. He gave a dismissive shrug and moved her things aside and sat down on the couch. That’s when she saw the blood-soaked coat. She picked it up, fingers running across the somewhat dried blood and she held it up, shaking it at him. “Is she here?”

 

“It isn’t important.” He said, removing a cigarette and placing it between his lips. “She’s not committing the murders.”

 

“What do you mean?” She demanded, exasperated. “How do you know?”

 

He lit the cigarette, narrowing his eyes. “She’s hunting them.”


	5. All My Sins Remember'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen begins to struggle with her humanity.

The water washed the blood down the drain like old sin and memories, or so she wished, but she still remembered the events of last night. She sat in the shower, watching the blood go down the drain. She waited until the water ran clear, and she waited even longer. It seemed like no amount of water could wash away the memory of the dead body before her, the blood soaking her, and Constantine appearing before her.

 

_ “What did you do?” _

 

A bitter smile came to her lips and she rested her head on the shower wall, throwing her head upwards to stare idly at the rotting ceiling. It wasn’t wrong of him to accuse her, especially considering that she had been standing over the young girl, hands soaked in fresh blood. Considering his history of finding her in such compromising situations, she didn’t blame him; not that she could had their history been had any different. No, John had this way of evading her rage. He was this irritating weakness; a fly she hadn’t the heart to bat, an ant at her picnic that she found herself feeding crumbs to.

 

A knock came at the door, interrupting her thoughts. Speak of the devil.

 

“You al’ight in there, luv?” John’s familiarly British accent hailed through the door and she sighed, ruffling her wet red hair. She turned the shower off and standing, throwing the curtain back. Wrapping herself in a towel, she crossed the room and threw open the door, quirking a brow at the blonde standing in the doorway.

 

“I’m fine.” She says pointedly, crossing her arms with a small grin. “Wouldn’t you agree, John?”

 

Perhaps now wasn’t the time for flirting but so was her means of deflection. John was more than happy to oblige.

 

“While I don’t disagree, luv,” She frowned. “Now is not the time.” He gestured to Zed, who was standing behind him, her arms also crossed and looking  _ very _ unimpressed. Carmen retained her grin and pushed Constantine aside by his shoulder, who held his hands up surrenderingly. She crossed the room and stood before the girl, looking her up and down.

 

“Aren’t you  _ adorable _ ?” She smirked, barring her teeth to the girl.

 

“John.” Zed looked to the blonde, a bit nervously, but spoke with a warning tone. He immediately strode over and stood between them, pushing them both away from each other.

 

“Now, now, girls, no need to fight. You’re both pretty.” Cue an eyeroll from Zed, who walked over and sat on the couch. Carmen returned to the bathroom to dress. John plopped down beside Zed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

 

“I know she’s no’ easy to get alon’ wit’ but you can at least try.” Constantine grumbled through his cigarette puff.

 

“Not easy to get along with, John? She’s a  _ murderer _ !” Zed exclaimed, through her hands in the air.

 

“Some would say the same of me.” He replied, looking at her, expression serious. She frowned, her expression turned solemn. It was true; after what happened in Newcastle, some would call John a murderer, not that it was true, of course. The only difference with Carmen was that it was true. “I’m only askin’ that you try to see what’s beneath all tha’.”

 

“And what’s that?” Zed asked, quirking a brow in interest.

 

“A human being.”

  
  


_ A human being _ ? What was Constantine thinking saying something like that about her? It had forced her to take the most unladylike entrance: the bathroom window, in order to avoid any awkward emotional conversation that might have resulted from that conversation. She’d have to get him back for that later. For now, she was feeling hungry and she needed to find something to eat before she became ravenous. She hadn’t even realized that she didn’t eat that day or the night before. How odd of her to not keep track of her feedings.

 

Upon finding the nearest club, she entered and sat down at the bar, ordering a Bloody Mary and searching for possible victims. There were a few good prospects, but none particularly appetizing, or worth the hunt, really. It was times like this when she wished there was a drive-thru for her kind, or for vampires even. Blood was what she needed. Not flesh. Just the blood...she was practically drooling at the thought when she heard someone sit down beside her. Brown eyes turned to see, interest mounting and falling right away.

 

It was a young kid, probably too young to be in the club, with short, shaggy blonde hair and soft green eyes. He was well-built, clearly muscular, and dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of denim jeans. She bit her lip, hunger rising up from deep within her and she struggled to suppress a growl, which unfortunately caught the attention of the boy. He grinned at her, leaning on the bar, revealing perfectly pearly white teeth.

 

“Hi.” He greeted, holding his hand out. “I’m Ben.”

 

She sipped her Bloody Mary, chiding herself for her own barbaric and animalistic ways. Though, forcing herself into proper social mannerisms, she released the drink from her dry mouth long enough to say hello and also to shake his hand before she was drinking it again, clinging to it for dear life as her eyes carefully raked over his body, imagining tearing it apart.  _ No, no,  _ **no** ! No children, Carmen. She reminded herself of her own rule.

“I suppose I should buy a lady a drink before I ask her her name.” He waved at the bartender and gestured to her before she could protest.

 

She could feel her hands literally shaking at this point.

 

“Um, I’m Carmen.” She wasn’t normally one to stutter, but she was more occupied with controlling her hunger than her speech at the current moment.

 

“A lovely name for a lovely lady.” He leaned in closer and  _ god _ , he smelled so good. She could smell a cheap cologne, but no, that wasn’t it. His blood was sweet, sickeningly so. She could already tell. This boy was pure. He definitely didn’t do drugs and wasn’t on any steroids. Oh, his blood would taste so sweet on her lips!

 

She didn’t realize how tight she was holding her glass until, much to her dismay, it shattered in her hands, the contents of her Blood Mary spilling all across her sequin top and leather pants. Her hearing faded out as she stared at the redness over her lap. She heard the boy, Ben apologize and demand a towel. The world seemed to spin and as it did, she found herself back in the alley with blood on her clothes and the body before her.

 

_ Her clothes and hands soaked in fresh blood, redder than her hair. The moon above her, illuminating the body as it was twisted and contorted, the victim’s face one of agony.  _

 

_ “Carmen.” She heard Constantine’s familiar voice and it echoed. “What did you do?” _

 

What had she done? The boy tried to give her a towel, but she grabbed his wrist, quite hard and he staggered a bit, his face now one of confusion as she stood up, pushing him back as she did so. She looked into his young, beautiful face and bared her fangs, stirring an all-too-familiar panic inside of him and setting his heart beating.

 

“Stay away from me, boy.” She breathed into his face and released his wrist, turning to walk away, staggering through the crowd until she found the exit. Pushing the door open, she stumbled into the night air, looking up at the moon for a brief moment before staggering down the road, hoping she found her way home.

 

The hunger had become bad. Really bad. Everything was hypersensitive: hearing, touch, smell, taste. She could hear people yelling down the street, birds wings fluttering, spiders crawling on the wall. It was enough to drive a normal person insane. For her, the hunger was more unbearable. Her phone was ringing off the hook, and the name  _ Constantine _ was clearly printed on every missed call.

 

_ She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. _ Every time she thought of eating, or feeding, all she could think of was that poor boy’s face. God, he looked like her boy. Her poor boy. Her sweet Ed. Before she could stop herself, she was tearing up. Taking slow, heavy breathes, she began to draw up a cold bath. Grabbing a bag of ice from her fridge, she tossed it into the bath. Once it was full, she dressed down to a nightgown and carefully stepped inside, shuddering. Flashes of her son appeared almost right away. Well, there was the euphoria setting in she supposed. Hallucinations would start all too soon. She just hoped the ice would delay it.

 

“Be all my sins remembered.” She murmured as she settled into the water, hearing her phone buzz once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that made like NO sense but I shall explain next chapter :3


	6. Glutton for Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen hallucinates; John finds her and they have a bit of a talk

“You look positively dreadful, Mum.” Weary eyes fluttered at the soft voice and she sighed almost disdainfully at the sight that awaited her. Sitting upon her fur-adorned toilet seat lid was a man with short, shaggy blond hair, green eyes and wearing an expensive-looking black and white suit.

“That’s no way to talk about your mother.” She replied bitterly. “After all, I birthed you into this world and gave you those sun-kissed curls and emerald eyes, Ed.”

She closed her eyes and looked away from him, unable to look at him without seeing his corpse in the coffin as it had been so long ago. Of course she would be haunted by such things now. Now that she was trying to be...well, good. Her throat was dry and scratchy, aching for a drink, even just one drop. The water was cold, even though the ice had melted long ago, and her body shuddered again and again as it tried to regain heat and failed. She could smell the blood of people walking below her apartment, only making her even more parched and she silently cursed herself for leaving a window open.

“I can’t deny that.” The hallucination continued, standing from her toilet lid and crossing her bathroom to sit on the edge of her lavish tub, his finger dipping into the freezing water. Her head lolled to look at him, vision blurring momentarily as their eyes locked. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Mum?”

“Mhm...” the noise was more of a hum coming from the back of her throat as she mused as to why she was actually doing this. She recalled seeing the young boy before her covered in blood and how it had reminded her of her earlier days as what she was and how painful it had been...even more so, it had reminded her of her days with her boy. “I didn’t kill anyone when I had you, Ed and it felt so...good.”

She closed her eyes. “Now, I just kill everything in sight and I’m always so _hungry_. I can’t ever get enough. What’s the point in eating and eating and eating if you’re never **full** , Ed?”

“You can’t fill a void in your heart with booze, luxuries, money or all the food in the world, Mum. You have to just accept that it’s there and move on.” She groaned as she felt a pain run through her, an all-too-familiar one: a hunger pain. She grasped the sides of the tub and cried out, some of the water falling out onto the floor.

“When did you get so wise?” She chuckled through gritted teeth as red fingernails grasped at her stomach, the source of the pain.

“Oh, I ain’t wise, luv. I just been around.” Eyes blinked clear and her vision came into focus to find the person before her was actually a very concerned, slightly annoyed John Constantine. Confusion filled her and she went to ask how long he’d been there when her body was wracked with another pain. Her head flew back, fangs barred themselves, and her hand grasped at John’s harshly, fingernails digging in. He grunted at the pain, but grasped at her hand, calling her name as she struggled to recover.

“Com’ on, luv. Somethin’ like this is nothin’ for ya.” She had to give it to him. He was surprisingly inspiring, but she wasn’t in the mood for it. If there was anything she was in the mood for, it was not pep talks.

She chuckled darkly, lolling her head back to face him, fangs still visible. The sting in her throat was becoming unbearable and the water was starting to feel warm, _too_ warm. It seemed that any time she did something, John Constantine was there to mess it up. She groaned as another hunger pain hit her and she writhed in the tub, tossing water and ice out onto the floor and onto John. He grabbed her wrists and held them to her chest, forcing her to stop and look into his eyes, blinking through water droplets on her dark eyelashes.

“Ya haven’t fed, have ya, luv?” She didn’t even need to answer and he didn’t need to say where he was going with this. He released her wrist and held his own out in front of her, blond brows raised in offering. She turned away from him, shaking her head. While it was true that she had fed off of him before, she couldn’t do it. Not this time. “Should I be offended, luv?”

“I can’t, John. I can’t. Please just go.” Realistically, she wasn’t sure what would happen if he left her right now and never came back. She’d tried to quit before, but it never worked. She always broke and drank something, well _someone_ ; usually a poor passerby in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Well, if ya’re not goin’ ta…” She smelled and tasted it before she really knew what he was doing. Even as she watched him remove a knife and slice the skin of his wrist open, her mind didn’t comprehend what was happening. She reached out to stop him, to grasp his wrist to somehow do something, but instead, she found herself sinking her teeth into the skin and siphoning blood from the wound as quickly as possible.

She barely heard as John groaned from both pain and pleasure, his head lolling back a little and his hand tightening into fist, increasing the blood flowing through the veins. She moved so that she was sitting, hunched over the edge of the tub, water dripping from the satin gown she was wearing and her bright red hair and soaking Constantine and the floor beneath him. She stopped for a moment, pulling back to look at him, eyes locking with his brown eyes, and just like the last time she fed on him, she kissed him.


End file.
